


Anything

by glacis



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex deals with the dead. Clark asks questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything

Anything, by Glacis. Rated NC17, no copyright infringement intended. Spoilers for all episodes through Zero.

 

He wondered how long a man could hang upside down, suffer repeated blows to the head, and not die from an aneurysm. Staring blindly at the darkness surrounding him, not seeing anything through the blazing pain in his skull and the haze of tears coating his eyes despite his best effort, Lex wondered if he'd somehow managed to slip into hell without actually dying.

It felt like it.

His arms were numb from the constriction of the straight-jacket. His hips hurt from carrying the weight of his body, as did his ankles, from the chain around them holding him suspended from the ceiling. Sometime during the night he'd soiled himself, and he could smell fear and sweat and shit. Maybe it should have frightened him, or maybe he was frightened and didn't know what to call it, but more than anything, he was furiously angry.

Caught by a dead man with a taser and a grudge, and he still didn't know what the fuck was going on.

It had to do with Zero, he knew that, and probably with Amanda, but he hadn't had anything to do with her since Jude died, and Zero'd been closed for months.

His head hurt too much to think with anything approaching his normal clarity. But his ears still worked. He heard footsteps approach.

"Let me go!" he tried to demand. It came out sounding more like a plea, slurred like he was stoned, but there was some force behind it. Not bad for a throat that felt like it had been screaming for days.

A bright spotlight suddenly snapped on, catching him full in the face and searing his eyes. He blinked desperately, trying to wash out the pain along with the tears. A face cut between him and the light, giving him much-needed relief, but also freaking him out the way it did every time he saw a dead man's face on a living, breathing, violently insane stalker.

As always when at a disadvantage, though he couldn't remember one quite this severe before, Lex demanded again, "What do you want from me?"

The man gave him the same answer he always did. "The truth."

Lex had already given him the only truth he could. The memory of that night was etched so deeply into his brain he could recite the sequence of events in his sleep.

Kasich let him in past the clueless bouncer. He and Amanda entered the club; he knew what they would find, she did not.

She deserved better.

"She's cute." Kasich leered a question at him. Lex shook his head.

"She's engaged." To a friend, who was less a friend than Amanda, and a bastard as well. He deserved to have that made known. Now, before it was too late, as it had been too late for his mother, as it was too late for any decent woman in the circles he traveled.

Not that there were many. When he found one, he rather liked to protect her. Even from her own choices, if need be.

She was refreshingly innocent in some ways. Another quality seldom found in his experience. She stared around at the dancers, the body paint and flashes of public sex on the dance floor, the sparkle and glitter that was Zero.

"What do you think?"

A look from the side of her eye held a slightly scandalized grin, and he grinned in return. "It's loud." A tactful non-answer.

He chuckled, enjoying her enjoyment. Glancing over at Kasich, he asked, "How's the VIP room tonight?"

"I think we can make some room."

Of course they could. Lex passed over a suitable bribe and placed his hand at the small of Amanda's back, following them up the stairs to the semi-privacy of his home away from home. Amanda looked back at him over her shoulder.

"I hope you don't feel obligated to entertain me. Jude's only going to be gone for a couple of days."

Of course he is. Lex's grin shrunk into a smirk. "I don't believe in obligations." He didn't.

He believed in protecting those he liked, and screwing everyone else. His father had taught him the second part of that life philosophy. He liked to believe he inherited the first part form his mother.

"Besides, your fiancé did me a favor. I wasn't looking forward to a night out on my own." Oddly enough, that was the truth. If Jude acted out of character and actually **was** out of town on business, Lex planned to have a lovely evening out with Amanda, then take her home and show her what she was missing staying with Jude.

She laughed lightly as she walked up to the bar. "Something tells me you wouldn't have been alone for very long."

He gave her a wide smile, envisioning for a moment the way she'd look naked, her hair against his pillow, her legs around his waist. Her eyes closed, her mouth open. He licked his lips. Gesturing at the bartender, he ordered, "Two apple martinis."

Amanda was checking out the bar set-up. She picked up a matchbook and turned it over in her fingers, reading the logo for the club. "Zero consequences. That's quite a promise."

"Only if it's kept." Promises seldom were, which was why he made very few. The drinks arrived and he toasted her.

"To my good friend Amanda, on her engagement." As long as it may last.

She grinned happily at him. "Cheers."

He touched the rim of his glass to hers. "Cheers," he echoed, ignoring the reminder of Victoria. Amanda was nothing like Victoria.

For one thing, she was a lady, which Vicky would never be, finishing school be damned. For another, Lex hadn't had her, and he'd had Victoria often enough to know precisely what sort of chess game that was. His musing was interrupted by Amanda, whose face went white. She stared unblinkingly over his shoulder, her smile wiped from her face. Her drink landed on the bar with a thud.

Lex straightened. So soon. Oh, Jude, you stupid ass. "What is it?" Not that he needed to ask. He put his martini down and followed her.

Jude sat between two hungry-looking women, sex in the air between the three. He looked up as Amanda stormed over, and Lex saw the moment Jude realized his future was about to explode in his face.

It was his own fault.

"Amanda..." There was a plea for understanding in his voice that had no chance in the face of the truth. He shouldn't even have tried.

Her voice shook. "You said you had to go away on business."

"I can explain!"

She needed no explanation for what her eyes plainly told her. She pulled her engagement ring off her finger.

Jude tried to rise, trapped as he was between his whores. "Amanda, wait a second."

The ring hit him in the chest and bounced to the floor.

"I can explain, Amanda!" He was pathetic. "Wait! Amanda!"

Amanda turned her back on him and walked away. Jude glared up at Lex. "You son of a bitch. You did this on purpose!"

Funny how people who screwed themselves always blamed those around to witness it. "You did it to yourself." Lex turned on his heel and followed Amanda down the stairs.

She didn't bother skirting the floor, walking through the dancers as if she didn't see them. Perhaps she didn't. Lex caught her as she staggered.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from her, spinning him around. Jude's punch landed solidly on his jaw.

Not solidly enough to take him out of the game. Shaking off the momentary dizziness, Lex punched him back. The fight was short and surreal, a strange dance under the flashing strobe lights. Kasich pulled Jude off.

Jude lunged past him at Lex. With a knife.

Fire bit Lex's left shoulder and he ducked away from the source, hand coming up to press the fabric of his jacket against the freely flowing blood. He stanched the wound instinctively, eyes still following Jude, recognizing the wild insanity in the man.

There was a gunshot. Kasich. Of course it was Kasich. It had to be Kasich. Jude lay on the floor, eyes blank now, insanity gone with the light of life. Amanda stood still as a statue a few feet away, eyes locked on the body, no sign of life to her either.

Then the police came.

It was self defense. He had a knife. It was Kasich.

A slap stung the side of his face, rocking him on the chain, and memory disappeared, returning him to an even worse reality.

The dead man torturing him screamed, "Liar! That's what it said in the papers but that's not what really happened."

Lex would not give up on the truth that had defined his life for the past three years. It was the only chance he had. He yelled back, as best he could with labored lungs, "It's the truth. Read the police reports!"

The bastard slapped him again, leaving him to spin, adding vertigo to Lex's list of woes. He fought not to vomit, knowing he'd choke to death if he did. He wasn't ready to die.

"I know you covered it up," the madman muttered feverishly. "I don't know how you did it, but you're going to pay."

Lex got in his own desperate question. "Who are you?"

"Don't you remember? Huh? You killed me."

That was the point. Lex had. One way or another.

The man who wasn't Jude stepped back into the light and raised a gun. Pointed it a few inches from Lex's face. Cocked it.

"Daddy can't save you this time, Lex."

As if he ever had.

 

_One Week Earlier_

Lex pulled up outside the Talon and set the alarm on his car. Even if Clark said he didn't need it. Lex wasn't as sanguine about the benign nature of Smallville's residents given all he'd suffered at the hands of some of the more mutated ones. A hand touched his back and he controlled his start, turning smoothly to face a man he never expected to see again.

"What are you doing here?" He kept his voice to a fierce whisper. "I thought we had an understanding. After that night we were never to have any contact." Even with Phelan dead, or perhaps particularly with Phelan dead.

"I saw him, Lex." Kasich looked sick. Exhausted. Not himself.

"Who?"

"Jude."

He sounded positive. Lex felt the world spin. No wonder Kasich looked so jumpy. "We both know that's impossible."

"Listen to me. He's alive. Everywhere I go I see him. He's stalking me."

Afraid. He was terrified. No wonder. He thought he was being stalked by a dead man. Lex took a deep breath, not wanting to admit it was a little shaky, and ruthlessly stamped down on the shivers crawling up his spine. "Just ... calm down."

"I'm not crazy."

He looked it. "Did this man say what he wanted?"

"Yeah. The truth."

Lex saw Clark approaching, and made a quick decision. There was no way he wanted Clark to start asking questions about Kasich. That was a whole can of poisonous snakes Lex wanted left behind in Metropolis.

"Listen," he told Kasich, "I keep an apartment in the city. It's very secure." He handed him the key. "You stay there and wait for my call."

Key in hand, Kasich turned and left. Lex watched him for a moment before turning to join Clark. Bright green eyes shot him a questioning look.

"Who was that?"

"Nobody." Truly. No one who mattered, anyway. Not anymore. Shaking off the last of the shivers, Lex walked into the Talon, Clark on his heels. He smiled at Lana, who stood in the middle of the floor, looking perplexed. "I hear we've sprung a leak."

She nodded slowly. Lex stared at her, wondering what was wrong this time.

"Is everything all right?" Clark asked. Of course.

"Just a little weirded out." She sounded vaguely confused.

Lex could relate. Plumbing problems might do the same to him, if he ever thought about them, which he didn't. That's why one had staff. "Relax, it's just a leak."

"No," she told him slowly. "A friend of yours came by. Applied for the assistant manager's position. He told me to stay away from you."

Sounded like one of his friends. Although if they'd seen Clark, Lana wouldn't have been the one to get the first warning. Lex grinned slightly. "What was his name?"

She walked over to the counter and picked up an application. "Jude Royce."

The smile disappeared and the shiver returned with a vengeance. Lex walked over to her, taking the application and staring at it. Yes. That was what it said. Even the address was correct. He felt his expression hardening into the blank mask he always used when under scrutiny or attack. Clark's concerned voice broke into his abstraction.

"What is it, Lex?"

Lex didn't answer. Couldn't. Looking over at Lana he asked, "When did he leave?"

"Just before you came in."

Still holding the damning application, he stalked out of the building and scanned up and down the street.

Clark followed him. Of course. The kid was like a terrier with a bone. "Lex. Who's Jude Royce?"

A ghost. "Trust me, Clark." He deactivated the alarm and unlocked his car. "I have no idea who Lana met today but it couldn't have been him." He glanced over to see worried green eyes staring at him. He couldn't help but smile. "Don't worry about it, Clark. I'm not."

He wasn't. He was adept at mind games, albeit not usually as bizarre as this one. Dead men couldn't hurt him. He climbed into his car as Clark turned to head back into the Talon. The oddest urge to call him back hit Lex, along with his usual tiny surge of jealousy that Clark should be fixated on Lana instead of himself, but he shook both off with the ease of long practice. Clark was his friend; anything else was out of the question. It would just fuck up their friendship.

Probably. He wasn't used to having friends he didn't fuck. One way or another.

As soon as the key turned in the ignition his Ferrari started to scream. Death cries and anguish and the words 'killer' and 'murderer' over and over. He pushed frantically at the buttons on his console, wondering what the hell possessed his car, who had broken in and how, and why in God's name he couldn't turn the freakish screaming off.

"What's going on?" Clark yelled at him through the window. Lex rolled it down and yelled back, trying to ignore the gathering crowd.

"I don't know." His hands still roamed the buttons, searching for a way to turn it off.

"Feel under the dash!"

He barely heard Clark over the noise, but he followed the suggestion and pulled out a CD player that had been rigged to the sound system. He stared at it a moment in disbelief.

"Looks like someone decided to get creative while I was inside," he said in the blessed silence.

"What were the screams?" Clark sounded as freaked as Lana had earlier, only with more animation. Lex shrugged. He would find out as soon as he got home and had his team go over the fucking CD with a fine tooth comb.

"I assume it's someone's creative idea of a joke. A successful one. We've managed to draw a crowd." The usual bunch of Smallville citizens with nothing better to do grouped around, gawking at him. Impatience surged through him. Damn them. Damn his father for sending him here. Damn Kasich for bringing back a nightmare. Damn Clark for being so concerned and so completely oblivious.

Damn himself, for wanting more, if he wasn't already. By being stuck in Smallville.

"Lex," Clark started to ask questions again. Lex cut him off before he could fully engage inquisition mode.

"Clark. This really doesn't concern you." It was the past. The past was dead. He drove off, repeating the words to himself like a mantra. Glanced up at the rearview mirror.

Clark still stood on the sidewalk, staring after him.

That look haunted him all afternoon.

By four, he had the report back from his scientists. They hadn't found a damned thing on the CD or the car. Whoever created and planted it was a professional. Knew precisely what he was doing.

Lex spent the rest of the afternoon going through his files, trying to find anyone still alive who would both wish to and have the skills to gaslight him. He drew nothing but blanks.

Dinner was served at his desk. Sitting there, glaring at his laptop, he pulled the cap off a bottle of water and drank deeply. Lionel's training was coming in handy; Lex was isolated, embattled and fighting blind, but he wasn't about to quit. He put the bottle down and started another search when his cell rang. It was the contractor at the Talon. He wanted to meet at the building, had an estimate. Lex smiled as he hung up.

Plumbing. How delightfully mundane.

Pulling up in front of the Talon fifteen minutes later he was surprised to see Lana and Clark leaving. Not surprised to see them together. He ground his teeth, reminded himself that patience was the one virtue Luthors possessed in abundance, and smiled charmingly at them as he got out of the car and set the alarm, hoping it would work better than it had that afternoon. The electrical shock he'd had his team add to the passive defense system would help. Next time anyone tried to wire anything to the ignition, they'd find themselves fried.

Lana looked perplexed. Again. "Lex, what are you doing here?"

"Contractor called. Said he had an estimate. Wanted me to meet him here." It wasn't surprising the man hadn't called Lana. Lex held the checkbook. They walked in on a surprise.

The contractor lay on the floor, blood seeping from a head wound. Lex stopped and looked around. "What the hell?"

Lana got to the man before Clark and helped him up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He was shaky, but otherwise looked all right. "I came in the back door and somebody jumped me. Forced me to let him in then bashed me over the head."

Lex peered around at the back door. The assailant was long gone.

"Did you see his face?" Clark asked.

"No."

Of course not. Jumped from behind in a back alley. Lex kept looking, trying to see if there was anything at the back of the room or by the rear entrance that might give them some clues. Clark's voice interrupted his search.

"Look."

Not the back of the room. Right in the middle of the room. A box with a ribbon wrapped around it sat on a table. Clark, courageous idiot that he was, walked over to it. Visions of anti-personnel bombs in pretty packages running through his head, wondering when he'd left good sense behind, Lex hurried to join him.

"That wasn't there when I locked up," Lana stated the obvious, then added helpfully, "I'll go call the police."

Clark's voice was very soft. "Lex. Your name's on it."

Of course it was. Lex closed his eyes for a scant moment, then took a deep breath and reached for the envelope on the box. Inside was a very familiar matchbook. He could feel Clark's eyes on him. Curious and concerned. The norm. Lex wondered what they would look like hot and needy. Wondered when he'd break down and find out. He glanced down at the artifact from a life left dead behind him.

"Zero consequences."

He opened the box.

His stomach tried to crawl out through his throat.

Kasich's severed hand, trademark ring still on the finger, lay nested artistically in a bed of tissue.

He gently replaced the box lid, shutting the grisly thing from sight, and took one step back. He kept staring at the box. Didn't want to look at Clark.

Couldn't face the questions in his eyes.

The questions from the police were much more straight-forward. He handled them easily. Just the facts. A barely-remembered bouncer from a defunct Metropolis club, no idea what it might mean, no indication of any other physical threat. No idea who was doing this to him.

Dead men didn't count.

When the cop finished with him, Lex walked over to join Clark and Lana. He came up on them in time to catch the end of their conversation.

" ... guy warned me. He said everything Lex touches ends badly. How much do we know about him and his past?"

That's right, Lana. Trust a man you've never met, over the man who's bankrolling your dream. Thank you, Smallville. God, he hated the place. He glanced over at Clark.

Not all of it. Some parts of it made all the shit worthwhile.

"I want the both of you to know how truly sorry I am about this." Clark had seen what was inside the box. He was more sorry about that than anything. To Lana, he added, "I promise this won't affect the grand opening."

"We'll be infamous before we even open the doors."

The alternative, of course, was to turn the place into a parking garage as he'd originally intended, but she walked away before he could lose control of his temper and let that slip out. It was probably just as well. Loss of control was an unforgivable sin in a Luthor.

They did it to others, not did it themselves. He sat down beside Clark.

"Do you know who he is?" Clark's eyes, questioning him again. "The guy in the.. you know."

"Max Kasich," Lex supplied. "And yes. I knew him a long time ago. In Metropolis." He was being stalked by a dead man. I may be as well. He didn't say that. Clark was worried enough without bringing paranoia and ghosts into the picture, making him doubt Lex's grasp on reality.

"Do you have any idea who might have done this to him?" Looking at Lex as if he could fix anything. Lex felt helpless. He hated the feeling. It reminded him too much of his father, and days he'd thought long gone by.

"I don't know," he finally admitted.

"What about your old friend Jude Royce?"

Was that a hint of jealousy? Lex shook off the thought. Tempting and distracting as Clark was, Lex was being shadowed by something very nasty, and the further away Clark was from it the better. "I doubt it could have been him, Clark."

"Why?"

Clark never quit. Lex gave in. "Because he's been dead for three years."

That shut off the stream of questions. After a long moment, Lex asked, "Would you like a ride home?"

Clark, of course, looked over at Lana. "No, thanks, I've got the truck."

Lex smiled at him, not letting the sting show, and got up. He walked over to Lana, keeping the smile, making it as reassuring as possible. She looked suspicious.

"Call me if you need anything," he told her.

"Thanks," she answered, judgment reserved in her voice.

As he left the Talon, Lex felt the smile on his face turn real, if ironic. Judged and found wanting by a teenage girl; not judged and not wanted by a teenage boy. If his life had turned into a tragedy in Metropolis, it resembled a farce in Smallville.

Usually the empty reaches of the castle didn't bother Lex. He'd had his imagination pressed and molded from a young age, so while it remained strong, it didn't run to the macabre. Then again, he didn't usually get severed hands sent to him in prettily wrapped boxes. The castle echoed.

His chief of security met him in the gym. His report, such as it was, didn't interfere with the rhythmic slap of Lex's fists against the heavy bag.

"According to the doorman, Kasich never made it to the apartment in Metropolis."

Damn. Lex grimaced at the bag. "What about Royce?"

Raines didn't have much there, either. "His parents died when he was young. Car accident. He was an only child. Inherited everything."

"And Amanda Rothman. Have you tracked her down yet?"

"She moved, left no forwarding address. When's the last time you've talked with her?"

An eternity. "About three years ago."

"I'll go wider," Raines told him, "but it could take some time. It would help if you'd tell me what's going on."

"No, it wouldn't," Lex snapped. "You're my head of security. You'll find her and warn her that she could be in danger. That's all you need to know."

Raines didn't like the situation, but Lex didn't pay him to like it. He paid him, very well, for results. Lex listened to the footsteps disappear up the stone steps and punched the bag with single-minded ferocity. It didn't stop the memories.

Memories of Amanda. Kneeling next to Jude's body as paramedics did work anyone could see was pointless.

The sickening pain draining Lex of his strength as he stood there and watched. Helpless. He hated being fucking helpless.

Phelan pushing in, taking control.

"Thank God you're here." Or thank his father, really, but he seldom did that. Give the old man too much pleasure.

More flashes of memory in time to the slap - slap - slap of his gloves against the bag. Events never brought out in company, never spoken of to anyone since that night.

Jude. The knife. Kasich struggling with him as Lex reached for Kasich's gun. The gunshot. Jude falling. Pain in his shoulder; pain in his hand from the recoil; pain in his head from the lights.

Phelan, giving Lex Toby's name, the first time he'd ever used the connection, not the last. Walking away, leaving Jude dead, Amanda staring after him, never to see her again, at Phelan's command.

Lex was never there.

The cold snub of a gun at his neck brought Lex abruptly back to the present. He turned, very slowly, and looked at the man holding the gun.

The dead man.

Jude smiled at him. "Nothing to say? I thought Lex Luthor had all the answers."

He was so fucking tired of people saying his name like it was a cartoon caption. "Look, you twisted son of a bitch. I don't know what you want..."

The man interrupted him. Lex refused to call him Jude, even in the privacy of his own thoughts.

"I wanna know what happened at Club Zero. The cover up."

The gun traced a disturbingly sensual trail from Lex's nape to his throat. The man held it there under Lex's chin and Lex turned with it until his back was against the bag. The unsettling caresses continued, with both the gun and the man's fingertips. Lex glanced down. The sick bastard was definitely getting off on it. He was hard. A jab with the gun brought his eyes back up.

"You know the cop, the one in the report -- Phelan? He's dead. It seems that you were involved in that. You see, I find that very interesting."

The muzzle made little circles next to Lex's ear as the man brought his free hand further up, stroking Lex's chest and face. Lex swallowed, his throat dry. He'd always had an unusual reaction to danger. Had even been an adrenaline junkie, and might still be to some extent. But this time, he wasn't getting turned on. He was trying not to throw up. He'd never been felt up by a dead man with a grudge. It was one experience he'd gladly have skipped.

"Why don't you kill me now?" he challenged. Motivation was key here; the more Lex knew the better he'd be able to fight. And he wanted to fight this.

"Because its more fun to watch you suffer," the man told him gleefully. "Knowing that at any moment -- bang!" The gun pressed a little harder. "Tell me what really happened."

The side door to the gym suddenly flew open, and six foot four of protective farm boy flew in. "Lex!" Clark yelled.

Lex looked around. The man was gone. He hadn't heard him leave. But then he hadn't heard him enter either. He shivered again. Goddamned ghosts.

Clark ran up to him. "Lex, you all right?"

Beautiful boy. Lex swallowed. "Clark, what are you doing here?"

"Your office told me you were here."

He looked around. Lex watched him. He could have kissed him, for the interruption if not for the sheer joy of it, but Clark was too busy peering around suspiciously. Besides, the kid would probably faint. Or punch him, and as weak as Lex's knees felt at the moment, he wouldn't be able to put up much of a defense.

"I thought I heard someone else." Clark stopped staring around and instead stared straight at Lex. Under the weight of it, Lex felt himself getting hard. Delayed reaction? Maybe. Or maybe just the usual when it came to Clark. Lex shook off his lethargy and paced the room, doing a thorough job of looking into corners himself.

"No," he reassured them both, "I'm all by myself."

With another sideways look, Clark said, "Hey, I looked up Max Kasich. I know what happened at Club Zero. How he shot and killed Jude Royce. Everyone fits into this, except for you. What's going on?"

If only he knew. "Please, Clark." He wasn't the type to beg, but for this, for Clark, Lex would make an exception. "For our friendship, I'm asking you to stay out of this. Some secrets are better left alone." Some are best left interred, though this one wouldn't stay buried. He grabbed a bottle of water and drank half of it with one long gulp.

When he lowered the bottle, Clark still stood there, staring at him. Lex swallowed heavily.

"Please."

Clark closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. Opened them again to stare at, and through, Lex, then nodded once. Without another word he turned and left the gym.

Lex watched him go.

He didn't sleep much that night. One glass of Glenfiddich was all he allowed himself before bed, and he worked out for two more hours and spent another three on the computer before he drank it. Shortly after three in the morning he went to bed.

The ceiling was not fascinating. His mind was too busy running after shadows to settle down to sleep. Propping his head on his arm, he dropped his other hand to his groin and stroked gently. When all else failed, sex usually worked, and when there was no one around to fuck, his hand and his fantasies were acceptable substitutes.

Particularly when they revolved around what he couldn't have. Big, wide-shouldered, tall, strong, skin like heavy cream with cinnamon mixed in where the sun touched it. Bright eyes that seemed to laser through him, cloudy in his fantasy with a haze of want he'd never seen in real life. A darker look than any Clark had ever given Lana.

A flush along sharp cheekbones, another deepening the color of his lips until they were the dark red of ripe strawberries. Lex smiled at his own clichéd thought as his dream-self took those lips, slicked them with his tongue, delved between them to find the sweetness of that mouth.

Clark was obedient in his fantasies in ways he'd never been in life: no questions, no expectations, simple desire, acted upon directly. Lips stretched by Lex's tongue, fingers, cock. Eyes half-closed, body shaking, long arms wrapped around Lex, holding him until a different sort of trembling took him over.

Lex's hand on his cock became Clark's, the tongue stroking over his lips the same, and in his mind the pressure of his fingers became the squeeze of Clark's ass around him, as long legs wrapped around his waist to match the embrace of long arms around his shoulders. Clark's mouth on his, his hands caught in Clark's hair, pumping up into that heat, devouring and being devoured in turn.

His fingers clenched, his spine arched, and he came, crying Clark's name into that phantom mouth, garbled as his teeth bit the end of his tongue. Discreet, even in pleasure, perhaps particularly in pleasure, because he was being haunted and ghosts could hear through walls. His past had already impacted too harshly on his present. He would bring no further pain to the few people he loved. He would do anything to protect Clark.

Just as he had with Amanda.

He must have fallen asleep, because less than three hours later the telephone rang in his ear. Snapping awake from a schizophrenic dream wherein Clark sucked him and tried to stab him at the same time, Lex stared wildly around the room before snagging the phone.

"Luthor," he barked.

Then he closed his eyes and bit back a scream of pure frustrated anger. Looked like it was too late to stop the collision.

Someone, no doubt his ghost, had poisoned the entire Kent cattle herd.

With Luthor chemicals.

Thirty five minutes later Lex closed his cell phone, finishing his call with his hazmat team, and pulled his humvee up at the Kent farm. Clark stood at the fence, staring pale-faced with disbelief at the field. Lex followed his stare and winced at what he saw.

Dead cows were everywhere, as were workers in yellow bio-suits. Putrid-smelling green chemicals poured out of and still leaked from steel drums clearly marked LuthorCorp. As a set-up it was pathetically transparent. As a weapon, it was devastatingly effective.

Clark glanced over at him. Lex froze. He was too far away to see his eyes, but the open expression on his face was easy to read. Pain. Disbelief. What might be betrayal. Then Clark looked away, and Lex could move again. He glanced over at Clark's parents. Jonathan looked at him, then turned his back.

Shit.

The rational voice in his brain said surely they couldn't think it was his fault. The sarcastic voice that sounded a lot like his father immediately shot back that this was Jonathan Kent. The man thought everything from global warming to the vanishing rain forests were his fault, and that was without the damning presence of LuthorCorp barrels all over his fucking field, dotted with the corpses of his poisoned cattle. No matter that no Luthor would be so goddamned transparent. Lex wasn't back to square one with Jonathan. He was knocked completely off the fucking board.

Reining in his temper and his shock, Lex straightened his spine and went to face the Kents. They both looked as if they'd been crying. Pitching his voice to carry over the background noise, ignoring the resolute way Jonathan kept his back to him, Lex said the only thing he could.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent. I have no idea how this could have happened, but I'll do everything in my power to find out. And I'll pay for your livestock, of course." He got precisely the reaction he expected.

"Oh, you think that's how you solve everything, don't you, Lex?" Jonathan's voice sounded choked. "Just sprinkle a little money on it and hope the problem goes away. Well, obviously some things are a little more difficult than that."

No shit. But what else could he say? It wasn't like he could lay hands on the damned cows and raise them up again. Reimbursement was all he could offer. He watched, frustrated, as Jonathan walked away.

Martha shot him a glance, difficult to interpret, as she hurried to her husband's side. Pain, not as much accusation as he'd expected, more disappointment than he cared to accept. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the fence. He kept his eyes trained on the dead cattle as Clark came over to stand next to him.

"I didn't think it was possible to fall any further in your father's eyes," he admitted. "Obviously, I was wrong." He looked over at Clark. There was a suspicion of red around those usually-bright eyes. Urgency hit Lex, driving him to speak. "You know I'd never intentionally allow something like this to happen." Clark couldn't believe he would do this. Couldn't.

"Does this have anything to do with Club Zero?" Clark asked instead.

Lex swallowed. He hadn't expected reassurance. Why should he? It wasn't like he ever got any. "I think so."

Clark's stare burned holes in him. "You need to tell the authorities everything you know. This isn't just about you anymore."

As if it ever had been. The dead man made damned sure of that. Lex watched Clark walk away to join his parents. He clenched his fists in his pockets to keep his hands from doing anything stupid, like reaching out to stop him. A body blocked his field of vision and he looked at the cop who now stood in front of him.

"Mr. Luthor, a CEP guy needs to talk to you. He's over there." He pointed at a brown SUV with official markings. Lex followed the pointing finger and found himself face to face with the dead man, dressed up in a CEP uniform.

"Looks like a real black mark on your company's environmental record," the ghost told him merrily.

Enough was enough. "I'm going to walk over and tell that sheriff everything." By that point he didn't care if they locked him up in the psych ward. At least no one else -- Clark -- would be hurt by the dead maniac stalking him. He turned to walk away. The man blocked his escape.

"And tell them what?"

Before he could answer, pain ripped through Lex's abdomen. He stared down through tearing eyes and recognized a taser in the moments before blackness pulled him down.

When he came to, he found himself in hell.

Since his captor didn't appear to be anywhere near, he decided a scream wouldn't be out of place. "Help!" It echoed. "Somebody!" Anybody! Clark! "Help!"

The echo was familiar. He began to swing, his body twisting in the ropes and chains and straight-jacket. He fought the rush of blood to his head as he tried to figure out where the hell he was. The sight of the bar triggered another unpleasant memory.

Club Zero.

Closed for months. Abandoned. Due for destruction.

"Help!" he screamed again, then groaned as the chains cut into his ankles. He tried to keep as still as possible, feeling the tendons at his hips pull as they took the weight of his body. "Help! Somebody!"

No one could hear him. This time, it didn't look like Clark would be there to save him.

The dead man came in just as he finally got the damned swinging to stop. Spotlights came up, framing him in harsh white light.

"You ready to talk?" he asked, his voice dripping false bonhomie. "You're finally where you should have been three years ago. Exposed in the spotlight."

Another lesson learned at his father's knee. When all else failed, give them what you would of what they want. Lex had the suspicion all else had pretty well failed. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth about Club Zero."

Once again he told the story. He and Amanda out for a night at the clubs, a cheating fiancé discovered, a ring thrown back in his face. Amanda leaving. He tried to catch her, Jude caught him first. A knife to his shoulder, Kasich shooting Jude in self defense. Lex leaving for medical assistance, Amanda disappearing from his life.

The dead man slapped him across the face. "Liar! That's what it said in the papers but that's not what really happened."

"It's the truth," Lex told him, voice slurring but determined. "Read the police reports."

"I know you covered it up. I don't know how you did it, but you're going to pay."

Wasn't that was he was already doing? Had been doing ever since it happened? Why the hell else would he be in Smallville overseeing a crap factory, for God's sake? Lex glared as best he could through unfocused eyes at the bastard ranting at him. "Who are you?"

"Don't you remember? You killed me."

The gun came up. Cocked.

**"**Daddy can't save you this time, Lex."

The barrel looked six inches around to Lex's eyes. A shot rang out. Lex jerked.

Not feeling the burning pain he expected, Lex glanced around wildly. The dead man really was dead this time, lying on the floor, staring at Lex with wide blind eyes. Lex tore his eyes away from the fresh corpse to see, of all people, the contractor from the Talon, holding a gun.

The contractor reached over and pressed a button. Music blared from the hidden speakers and the colored spots Lex remembered so well began to dance over the surreal scene. The man walked over to stand in front of Lex.

"No more games, Lex. It's time for the truth."

About fucking time. The gun rose and Lex tried to swallow. A second shot rang out, and Lex barely had time to tuck his head before he hit the floor. He hadn't been shot.

The chain had.

He landed hard on his left shoulder, feeling the collarbone jar, trying to roll with it. He bit back a scream as agony shot through his bound arms and down his spine. His feet were numb, his hips and back cramped, and he curled instinctively into a fetal position, trying to minimize the pain wreaking havoc with his body. Every instinct tuned to survival, he fought past the blaze of red threatening to send him into oblivion and focused on the man responsible for it.

"I know you," he rasped. "You're the contractor from the Talon."

"That's my day job."

The bastard kicked Lex in the side, sending him skidding across the floor. Lex curled up tighter, in case that was the first of many, trying to protect his vulnerable belly and groin. He asked the question he'd been asking for days, hoping this time to get an answer. "Who are you?"

His tormentor answered with a non sequitor. "Mandy never talked about her family?"

Lex forced himself to think. "She said she had a brother in Central City. Said he was in prison. She was the only one he kept in touch with."

"She was my lifeline while I was inside. See, I never had a rich daddy to keep me out of jail."

Amanda's brother? Her brother was doing this to him? After everything Lex had done to protect her? It didn't make sense. None of it made any sense. "I don't understand. What do you want?"

"What do I want, what I want, what I want," he mused. He glared down at Lex. "Vengeance for my sister."

That made as little sense as the rest of it. "What do you mean? Where's Amanda?"

"She's dead, Lex. She committed suicide a year ago."

His stomach curdled. Pain hit again, deeper inside. "I never knew." How could he? He'd walked away from her, at Phelan's orders, to protect her. To protect himself.

"That's because you cut her out of your life. You know, Jude's death devastated her. He was the love of her life. She had nothing to live for."

God. What a fucking mess. Lex swallowed again, trying to work up enough saliva to keep asking questions. Find a way through, find a way out. He looked over at the dead man. Truly dead, this time. "Who's that?"

"Lucky break." Not for the corpse. Amanda's brother continued. "Couple weeks after Mandy's funeral I walk into a greasy spoon in Bludhaven and there he is, flipping burgers. You know how they say everyone in life has a double? I had to look twice. I figure if he could fool me, he could fool you."

He hadn't. Lex had known Jude was dead. But it **had** been enough to fool Kasich. Enough to keep Lex from reporting it to anyone, enough to stop Lex from asking for help from anyone, even after Kasich's severed hand showed up. Even Luthors arranged for back-up when it was appropriate, but how did one fight a ghost?

"Why'd he do it?"

Amanda's brother shrugged. "On parole, needed the money. That's when I got the idea. You ruined Mandy's life. I'd ruin yours. Mandy's finally going to get the justice she deserves."

This wasn't going to work. Lex had to give the madman something, or he was going to die. He knew it. Taking a deep breath, fighting the fresh wave of pain from his abused body, he said "You were right. The reports, what I told Phelan ... they were all lies. You want the truth, I'll give it to you."

The discovery. The rejection. The flight interrupted. The knife. Kasich's gun.

Knocked from Kasich's hand.

Jude comes at him again. The gun goes off. Jude falls.

Lex turns to stare at Amanda. The gun in her hand, the shock on her face. The tearing grief in her eyes.

His halting recitation of events was interrupted by a yelp of anger from Amanda's brother.

"No, no, no! You're twisting it again!"

Lex refused to back down. "That's what happened! That's what happened. Amanda pulled the trigger. She shot Jude. I was trying to protect her."

"I'm through with you, Lex." He jerked Lex to his numb feet and leaned him against the aquarium lining the front of the balcony, less than a yard away from where it all began three years before. He brought the gun up. Lex made one last appeal to a sanity he knew was long gone.

"Killing me won't bring Amanda back. None of this can change what happened."

"I don't care. After tonight you'll never hurt anyone else, Lex."

His hand moved, and Lex dove to the side. A singing pain cut through his right shoulder, matching the fiery burn in his left. Glass exploded and Lex felt his body flip backward over the edge of the balcony.

The single thought struck him, this is it, followed closely by a silent if hysterical chuckle. He landed, not with a bone-shattering crash, but with a bone-jarring crunch, as his shoulders then his ass hit, of all things, a sofa.

A sofa?

"Lex!"

Clark? Lex's mouth moved before his brain came out of shock, survival instinct still running strong. For Clark, now, as well as himself.

"Get down! A man with a gun is up there!"

"Where? You mean that guy? What happened?"

Lex peered blearily up at the balcony. He could barely see the outline of two bodies. Not just the corpse, but Amanda's brother as well. What **had** happened?

"I have no idea," he admitted. Clark. At Zero. How bizarre. "How did you find me here?"

"With a little help from my friends."

Made about as much sense as any of it had. Clark reached up and began to unbuckle the straight-jacket. Collarbone and shoulders complained. Lex reached up and caught his hand weakly.

"Ouch," he said calmly, then passed out cold.

He awoke in a private room in Metropolis General.

It was relatively quiet, relatively dark, and relatively cheerful, with a bright bouquet of spring flowers in a simple glass vase that had to be from Clark. No one else he knew ever gave mixed flowers. An expensive spray of lilac roses from his personal secretary; she no doubt thought it would cheer him up. Lionel, glowering at him from the corner; any cheer the roses brought was instantly sucked from the air by his father's presence.

"I'm not dying, Dad. Why are you here?" His voice sounded raspy, but not too bad considering the inside of his throat felt as if it had been razed with a wire brush.

"You've been unconscious for three days," Lionel informed him.

Lex raised a brow. It hurt. "Coma or was I just really tired?"

Lionel gave him a look that broadcast 'don't be stupid' without actually having to say the words. He was a master at nonverbal expression. Not bad at verbal flaying, either, as his incipient tirade proved. Lex lay back against the pillows, took a mental inventory of his physical hurts, decided he would live, and waited for his dad to run out of steam.

It took awhile.

Between the allegations of unreliability, the recitation of every 'mistake' he'd made since before he hit puberty, and the combination of triumph and disdain in Lionel's entire demeanor as he informed Lex that he would never be free of his poor choices, Lex was bored very quickly. He couldn't let it show because it would simply inspire Lionel to further heights of oratory dressing-down, so he did the next best thing.

He fell asleep in the middle of the rant.

When he woke up again, it was morning, and his father was mercifully absent. He yawned, worked his throat a little, stretched then stopped abruptly as every muscle in his body shrieked, and looked around for ice chips. He was reaching for the nurse beeper when the door opened and the doctor bustled in.

"Ice?" he asked before the man could say a word. Upon being handed a cup, he dove into the shavings, sighing blissfully as they soothed and numbed his throat. When he finally looked up, the doctor was fully into the stream of medibabble. Lex emptied the last of the ice chips and interrupted.

"Anything broken?"

The doctor looked down his nose. "You suffered strained ligaments and tendons, multiple abrasions, contusions and burns, dehydration, some internal bleeding --"

"Was anything broken?" Lex interrupted again. Slowly and loudly. The doctor's look notched up to a glare. He shook his head and opened his mouth. "So what you're saying is I'm bruised, shaken, stretched and dried out, but other than that, I'm fine?"

The doctor closed his mouth. Blinked at Lex. "You were unconscious for --"

"Days, yeah, I know." He dismissed it as unimportant relative to his extreme distaste for hospitals. "Concussion? Fractured skull? Broken bones? Anything requiring round-the-clock surveillance by medical personnel and accouterment," he gestured at the machines, none of which were actually attached to him other than the heart monitor and the IV drip with saline in it, "any needs that I can't address perfectly well at home?"

The doctor opened his mouth. Closed it again. Closed his eyes. Sighed. Opened his eyes and admitted, "No, but it would be a good idea to keep you --"

"Where are my clothes?"

Lex distinctly heard the sound of grinding teeth. He hid his grin and kept the doctor pinned with an inquisitive stare. Eventually, he won. As always.

"This is against my advice," the doctor muttered in the tone of one who knew he was going to be utterly ignored.

Lex utterly ignored him.

Independent as he no doubt was, he wasn't stupid. He called a driver to take him back to Smallville. He could have remained in Metropolis, but falling asleep on his father mid-lecture guaranteed when next they met said lecture would be repeated. With embellishments.

He really wasn't in the mood.

Besides, he wanted to thank Clark for his flowers. And the little card that came with them.

Dear Lex. Get well soon. Clark.

He wondered if Clark even thought about it when he told the florist what message to include with the flowers, or if Kent family manners drilled into him from the time he learned to write included the requirement of affectionate salutations on all personal notes. Whatever it was, Lex would take it. Not that he was desperate.

Perhaps a little. Being exiled, kidnapped, abused and maltreated on a regular basis, leading to perpetual rescue via Clark, had left him perhaps a tiny bit ... needy.

Maybe it was just Clark.

Whatever it was, he'd barely settled in at the castle before he reached for the telephone. Then he looked at the clock. Noon. On a weekday. Clark would be at school.

A lowering thought.

If Lex called, he'd probably end up talking to Jonathan Kent. For long enough for the man to figure out who it was and hang up on him. Another lowering thought, though not quite as lowering as the realization hitting him all over again that the guy he lusted after and relied on for rescue on a regular basis was still in high school.

Lex dropped the phone back on the rest, sat back against the soft cushions, and stared at the wall. For two hours.

At the end of his enforced meditation, he rose, drank a bottle of water, took a very hot shower, and worked out. Pushed it as far as he could within the boundaries of his healing injuries. He healed fast, and the fastest way for him to heal was to work out the pain. His thoughts ranged freely as his body sweated. A few themes recurred, whether he was wall-gazing or doing quad curls.

Amanda was dead. He'd done everything he could do protect her, and in the end it had come to nothing. Because he'd done as he was told, and walked away with her.

Next time, and he knew there would be a next time, he wouldn't walk away. He had a feeling the next time would be about Clark.

He wouldn't be able to walk away.

Unless of course he was carried away. In a coffin, after Clark's father hit him with a pitchfork. Or ran over him with a tractor. Or shot him with a shotgun. Which reminded him.

He had to replace a herd of cattle. Get an EPA assessment on the land and begin clean-up. Have the aquifer checked for contamination. Find and fire or kill whomever allowed Amanda's brother to get those damned drums of waste. Find a way to get in touch with Clark that didn't involve his father.

Another hot shower, feeling better already even if his muscles did feel like he'd been beaten by professionals with truncheons, and he got to work. A few calls and the damage to Kent farm was taken care of, financially at least. Cattle would be delivered to a leased field adjacent to the Kent place by the next morning, and when the land and water were officially cleared, they'd be moved onto Kent land. Maybe that would appease Jonathan.

Lex snorted. Probably not. Just give him more cause for resentment. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't, where Papa Kent was concerned.

As if the thought of fathers and damnation summoned him, the telephone rang, and Lex winced as Lionel purred in his ear.

"Hello, Lex."

"Hi, Dad."

"I discovered from your doctor you checked yourself out ADA and left for Smallville. Were you really so anxious to return you'd risk your health?"

Lex glared at the far wall, a muscle twitching beside his mouth. "I'm fine, Dad."

The reassurance that he was in good health was all the permission Lionel needed. The next twenty minutes were hellish but familiar, leaving Lex holding the phone an inch from his ear. He felt fourteen years old and caught with his hands down his tutor's pants.

"Choices," Lionel poked at him, every verbal dart finding its target. "It all comes down to choices in the end, Lex, and yours, even _you_ must admit, have been abysmal. It's no surprise, or shouldn't be, that they would come back to haunt you so spectacularly. There was a reason I sent you away from Metropolis, son. It's time for you to take responsibility ..."

Same tune, different key. Lex closed his eyes and waited for a break in the steady stream of degradation. When it finally came, he interjected softly, "Leaving Metropolis doesn't do much good when the past follows me to Smallville, Dad." He had to smile at the silence that met that comment, then added, "I know why I'm in exile. Should I ever attempt to forget, you would no doubt remind me."

"Someone has to," Lionel shot back.

Lex closed his eyes and fought a headache as his father launched into round two. By the time it finally finished, he was aching for drugs, or alcohol, or a swift kick to the head to put him out for a little while. He hung the telephone up carefully, refraining from slamming it through the desk as his pent-up temper urged, and breathed deeply for several minutes.

Then he sat staring at the wall again and thinking patricidal thoughts, until a throat cleared from the doorway interrupted him.

It was Clark. Looking uncertain and concerned. Carrying a bowl of ... soup? Lex smiled at him.

"Clark. Come in. Please."

Clark crossed the room and sat the bowl next to Lex's elbow. It was soup. Chicken soup. With noodles and little bits of celery and carrots and other unidentifiable chunks that were probably vegetables. He thought.

"How are you feeling, Lex?" Clark asked, handing him a spoon. "Better eat it while it's hot. Mom made it. It'll make you feel better. It always does for me. Not that I actually get sick ... very often ..."

An interesting stumble. Lex ignored the soup in favor of watching Clark. Who seemed determined to avoid Lex's eyes and stare at the soup.

Oh, and babble. Which he was still doing.

"But it's got all sorts of good stuff in it. And, anyway, how are you?"

The babble came to an abrupt halt as Clark finally, actually, **looked** at him. Lex smiled softly. Took a bite of soup.

Good. Bland. No doubt very healthy. "I'm fine, Clark." He took another bite of soup. "How are your parents?"

"Okay." Damn. Clark wasn't looking at him again.

It was Lex's turn to stare at the soup. "It was nice of your mother to make this. Please thank her for me." The little pause told him all he needed to know. "Or rather, it was nice of you to liberate this soup for me, and please don't let your mother know. I don't want you to get into trouble." He looked up at Clark. Yes. A blush. A guilty look. A fidget.

So transparent.

Not hungry, having eaten enough for courtesy's sake, Lex pushed his chair away from the desk and prowled over to the window, watching Clark in the reflection in the glass. The look on his face was interesting, expressions chasing themselves so quickly across his features it was tough to categorize them all. Frustration, relief, the ever-present concern, and something else that was harder to read. Affection, perhaps.

Lex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then winced, as his badly bruised collarbone protested. He felt the displaced air behind him more than heard Clark's approach, and when Clark asked, "Are you sure you're okay?" Lex felt the warmth of breath across the back of his head.

He shivered.

Opened his eyes and turned to find Clark much closer than he expected. Close enough to touch. Lex raised his eyes to meet Clark's and saw all the concern he expected, all the questions he was growing accustomed to, and a rising heat he thought must be in his imagination. Lex swayed. Big hands came down to grasp his shoulders, holding him steady. Clark was so close.

Too close.

"Fuck it," Lex muttered. He would give anything at that moment to give in to the attraction that had been eating at him since Clark pulled him from the river, and he was too tired to fight it. Running one hand up behind Clark's shoulder, he wound his fingers lightly in silky dark hair and tugged Clark the requisite two inches closer needed to kiss him.

Beautiful.

Soft and sweet, startled and innocent, as beautiful as Lex had thought it would be. He didn't push, simply pressed, sealing their lips together and darting the tip of his tongue out to taste Clark's lips. Apples, and sawdust, and salty sweat. Instantly addictive.

Before he could lose himself and do something even more insane, like stick his tongue in Clark's mouth, Lex backed away.

Only to find Clark's hands had moved, too. One arm was locked around Lex's waist, holding him upright; the other cupped the back of his head and kept him from breaking the kiss. A tentative touch traced his upper lip, and Lex opened his mouth to let Clark's tongue in. Once there, it lightly tapped his, and Lex obligingly sucked.

Clark moaned.

Lex hardened in response to the sound, faster than he'd turned on in years. He sucked harder and Clark's hands turned curious. Still touching him gently, but roving now, fingers trailing up and down his spine, over his skull, brushing his ears, rubbing the nape of his neck.

It was Lex's turn to moan.

As if the sound flicked a switch, Lex found himself lifted up bodily and pushed back against the wall. He wrapped both hands in Clark's hair, mouth opening as the kiss turned greedy. Clark's movements against him were awkward, unpracticed, but openly hungry, and Lex humped against the hardness pushing against his own.

Then his mouth was free, and he gasped for breath, and he couldn't actually form words, as Clark kissed every mark on him, from the bump on his collarbone to the taser burn on his belly. He didn't know when his shirt had been ripped open, but it hung in shreds from his shoulders. The tiny rational voice in the back of his brain that never shut up was estimating how much strength it took to tear raw silk that easily.

Probably not as much as it would take to rip the roof off his Porsche and pull him out of the river.

The voice was suddenly swamped by a chorus of moans as Lex's pants gave way and Clark latched onto his erection with both hands and that incredible mouth. Lex watched, wide-eyed with shock, as Clark took the end of his dick between his lips and sucked so hard Lex could see the outline of the tip against his cheek.

It felt so damned good it hurt.

It was also obvious Clark had never given a blow job before, as the rasp of teeth on sensitive flesh made Lex jump. Fortunately for both of them, Lex liked a touch of pain in his pleasure, so when Clark tried to draw back, apology written all over his face, Lex simply used his hand-hold on Clark's hair to nudge him back down again.

Clark beamed, smiling around Lex's dick, and doing ridiculous things to Lex's insides. All the hunger he'd dreamed about was sparkling in those half-closed eyes. He deliberately unwound his hands from Clark's hair before he yanked the kid bald, and began to beat his fists against the wall, needing an outlet for his energy before he lost control completely and fucked Clark's mouth as hard as he wanted to.

The hands that had been wrapped around his hips caught his fists, and the change in position tipped Clark just enough forward that Lex's unstoppable thrust put him right down Clark's throat. Lex froze, certain Clark would gag.

Clark closed his eyes completely and swallowed around Lex. No choking, no gagging, no pushing away, simply pure hard sucking like he never wanted to stop. Lex decided he wasn't in hell after all. He was in heaven, because Clark took him there.

He didn't have time to wince over the shmaltz of his thoughts because he was coming, and Clark was sucking him all the way through it, and by the time he finally collapsed he was certain Clark had sucked his spine out through the end of his dick. At least it felt like he'd been turned inside out.

Happily, he'd had a lot of experience at sex, and could reciprocate even when half-dead following a brain-bending climax. Given the way Clark was mindlessly humping his leg and whimpering against his throat, it was a good thing. Forcing weighted arms to move, Lex managed to get a hand under Clark's chin and tilt it up.

God, he was beautiful. Hair a wild, sweaty mass of curls tumbling over his forehead. Eyes tightly closed, cheeks flushed, mouth wet and swollen and red, still dripping from Lex's orgasm. Lex brought that gorgeous face up and opened his mouth over Clark's, devouring his lips, licking him clean. Clark gasped and panted into his mouth, and Lex shifted them both until he lay half-over Clark.

With the hand that wasn't wrapped around Clark's jaw, holding him steady in the kiss, Lex flicked open the buttons on his jeans. Then Clark's hands came up, ripping denim and cotton shorts out of the way, and Lex had a handful of Clark's cock.

Close to bursting.

It took very little encouragement for close to become climax. Lex kissed him through it, his hands driving then calming, soothing and petting. Draping himself over the shaking body, Lex broke the kiss to shower Clark with tiny licks and nibbles, butterfly kisses everywhere he could reach. By the time he'd covered Clark's face and throat and upper chest with them, the shaking was nearly calmed.

He had to grin. He was stripped down to his socks and Clark had his jeans buttons opened. Made it the work of a moment to tuck him in and tidy him up. Clark watched him, blushing, his goofy, endearing grin fading as he did. Lex reached down and kissed him softly. Clark opened his mouth and gave almost as good as he got.

Quick learner.

Then he moved, shifting Lex gently until he sat leaning against the wall. Clark stared at him for a long moment and Lex wondered what he found so fascinating.

"I'm fine," he repeated quietly. Clark nodded.

"Gotta go home."

Of course. His parents no doubt had no idea where he was. Lex glanced over at the soup bowl then back at Clark, who still hadn't stopped blushing. "See you tomorrow?"

Clark smiled, an unusually subdued expression, and nodded once. Then he was gone.

It took awhile for Lex to gather enough energy to rise, and when he did, his body screamed at him. He wandered slowly over to the desk and tried another bite of soup, but cold chicken soup was disgusting, and he dropped the spoon back in the bowl. Subsiding into his chair, he rested his chin on his palm and stared out the window, not seeing the landscape.

Seeing Clark's blush.

Maybe exile wasn't so bad after all.

Except Clark didn't come the next day. Or the one after, or all weekend. Lex nearly called several times, told himself he wasn't waiting like a pathetic schoolgirl for the pretty boy to call him, then did exactly that.

He went to the Beanery, saw Chloe but no Clark, and left before she could pin him to the wall and sharpen her budding journalistic claws on him. He went by the Talon a few times, until Lana stopped looking like Bambi about to be shot by hunters and relaxed around him again. Still no Clark. He considered driving by the Kent farm and risking a look.

Remembered Jonathan's shotgun and his temper, and decided it wouldn't be prudent. Decided being prudent every once in a while was a good idea.

Bit his tongue until it was sore and didn't ask anyone where Clark was.

Tuesday afternoon about four Clark showed up in his office at the castle.

Lex stared at him. Clark blushed, just a little. Lex tried to smile but it came out lopsided. "How are the cows?"

Clark started, then gave him a half-grin, shoving his hands in his back pockets and shrugging one shoulder. It was all Lex could do not to jump on him and kiss him senseless. Except the last time he did that, Clark disappeared for almost a week.

"The cows are good. Dad got the reports back and the groundwater's gonna be fine, the filtration the CEP put in place worked great. The soil's gonna need some work, and it won't be any good for grazing for awhile, but the engineers and EPA guys you sent over are really efficient. And, uhm, the cows are good."

Thank you for the status report, Farmer Kent, now please get your ass over here so I can kiss you. "And yourself?"

Clark cocked his head and gave him a confused look.

"How are you?" Clark shrugged. Lex spoke more plainly. "What's wrong?"

The confusion melted into a very serious look, and Lex felt his stomach clench.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he began.

Before he could stop himself, Lex said, "Not always a good thing." Clark glared at him. He waved encouragingly. "What have you been thinking about?" As if he didn't know.

Clark sighed. "Secrets." Lex shot him a look, and Clark shrugged again, a little helplessly. "Not just yours, but in general. Everybody's. What they do to people. Dad always said to leave the past in the past --"

Lex could feel himself staring goggle-eyed at that one, but Clark didn't notice, so he was able to regain his usual stoic demeanor while his inner Lex laughed hysterically at the universal hypocrisy of fathers.

"-- but what happens when you can't? When the past follows you, and messes things up, and you get hurt?"

He started to say he was fine, again, but Clark swept on.

"And other people get hurt? And there's nothing you can do about it?"

Lex kept his mouth shut. He'd done everything he could. He couldn't help the cows.

He couldn't help Amanda.

He would do anything he could to help Clark.

Except leave him.

The thought shook him up enough that he missed the next few rhetorical questions Clark posed. When there was a break, he interjected, "Does that mean you think we have no future? Because of my past?"

"I don't know." It was almost a whisper, and the only thing Lex saw in Clark's eyes was pain.

He rose and crossed the room quickly, his hands coming out to catch Clark's arms. Clark made no move to avoid him.

"I can't do anything about the past, Clark, except deal with it when it comes back to bite me. Us," he added as Clark opened his mouth. "But I refuse to accept that mistakes I've made in the past will determine the future. You've said yourself, if anyone can choose who they're going to be, it would be me. I've chosen. I know who I want to be."

"Who?" Clark whispered, eyes intent. On Lex's mouth. He leaned forward, his arms turning in Lex's grasp until their hands were clutched together.

"Your friend," Lex answered just as quietly.

This time, Clark kissed him.

That was a relief, because Lex really wanted to kiss Clark, but didn't want him to run away and not come back again. Once Clark opened the door, Lex made himself at home. Clark followed with every appearance of enjoyment.

They made it to the sofa, still kissing, another relief since Lex didn't want to do what he wanted to do with Clark up against the wall. Not the first time. He wanted to taste, to linger, to dive into Clark and never come up for air. To drown in him.

Several long moments later, he had Clark's shirt bunched up under his arms, his jeans unbuttoned, his boxers stuffed in them halfway down Clark's thighs, and Clark's cock in his mouth. The moans coming from Clark's chest were highly satisfactory. Big hands cupped his skull as if it was an egg, rubbing so lightly against his skin it felt like a whisper more than a touch. Then even that was gone as Clark threw his arms up over his head and grabbed the arm of the sofa, arching and bucking until he nearly tossed Lex off as he came.

After the first swallow, Lex backed off, still rubbing, catching as much as he could in his hand. Moving up Clark's body until he could kiss him again, he caught the last of Clark's whimpers with his mouth. Clark returned the kiss in a drowsy frenzy, still wound up but caught in the usual post-orgasmic ennui.

Perfect.

Lex lowered his face to Clark's neck, licking and sucking there, until Clark lowered one of his hands to cup Lex's head again, holding him in place. Lex ran his other hand, sticky with Clark's come, between Clark's thighs and began to stroke feather-light between his cheeks.

Clark stilled. Before Lex could retreat, he relaxed again. His thighs spread. It was Lex's turn to moan. As it had the first time they touched one another, the sound seemed to break something open in Clark. From tentative acceptance to passionate enthusiasm, he brought his legs up and nudged his knees around Lex's ribs. His hands now roamed restlessly up and down Lex's back, urging him on.

As if Lex needed any encouragement. The first press of his fingers inside Clark's ass pulled matching hisses from them both. Lex drew back and asked a question with his eyes. Clark answered it by driving his body down on Lex's hand. That little move provoked matching yelps. Lex had to kiss him for it.

While he was kissing, his hands were busy. Clark was hardening again, the ass-play turning him on quickly. The spill from his orgasm wasn't enough, though, and Lex growled. Unprepared. How could he be caught unprepared? No lubricant, not even so much as a bottle of hand lotion. But he wanted to fuck Clark, and from the way Clark writhed and shoved against his hand, Clark wanted to be fucked.

Well, there was more than one way to ready a man. Lex reluctantly broke the kiss then swiftly descended via licking nibbles all the way down past Clark's slick erection. Once there, he gave it a lick and a promise, then urged Clark over onto his knees, leaning his chest against the arm of the sofa. Clark looked back at Lex over his shoulder. There was nothing but heat in his eyes.

Heat and a little confusion. Lex had a feeling the confusion fled as soon as Lex's tongue hit his ass, but he was too busy to look. Judging by the "Oh god yes!" Clark yelled, and the way his ass reared up to meet Lex's mouth, rimming was Clark's new favorite thing.

It was high on Lex's list, too. Clark was hot and slick against his tongue, the taste stronger, overlain with the salt-sweet of the semen Lex slathered there. He took his time, tongue playing over and around the hole before diving in. The muscle contracted around his tongue as if trying to pull it all the way into Clark's body. Lex played there for some time, until Clark was shaking and close to coming, sealing his lips over the hole and kissing it until it was dilating and contracting needily.

He added a finger to the play, and Clark bellowed, reminding Lex irresistibly of a cow. Anxious to knock the image out of his brain before he started to laugh and really confused Clark, Lex shifted up and slowly began to press his cock into Clark's body.

The series of broken whimpers that followed nearly made him lose his mind. That, and the way Clark's body tightened around him, drawing him in, tempting him to plunge in and to hell with taking care.

But this was Clark. He would always take care with Clark. He knew already this wouldn't be the only time they did this. Clark was addictive, body, mind and spirit, from his grin to his blush to his endless questions. Lex wasn't about to try to kick the habit.

Running his hand around Clark's waist, he found a flagging erection, and stroked it in time to his gentle thrusts. The further in he pressed, the harder Clark got, until by the time he'd worked his way all the way in Clark was completely erect and close to coming.

It was just as well, as Lex didn't think he could hold out much longer himself. A careful thrust, another, and Clark gave a sound that sounded a lot like a growl. His hand wrapped around Lex's, tightening his fingers, speeding up his pumping motion, and his hips jolted back and forth, forcing Lex in deeper, urging him to move.

Control broke. Lex bent over Clark, one arm wrapped around his chest, the other working his cock, thrusting hard enough to rock them both, but Clark took it and wanted more. He told Lex so with every greedy push, every gasping moan. Lex gave him everything he had, and came before he was ready. Humping up against him, Lex opened his mouth over Clark's shoulder and bit down, tongue lapping against the salty skin, still tasting so sweet.

He stayed there, shuddering, as Clark worked their hands harder and faster, finally coming shortly afterward. The spasming muscle around his still-hard dick hurt, and Lex moaned, thrusting forward, coming again at the strongest milking sensation he'd ever felt. By the time it finished he was wiped out. He groggily withdrew from Clark's body, as carefully as he'd entered, and was rewarded by a sigh from Clark with no indication of pain.

Lex didn't think he'd ever had sex with a virgin. He was glad this one wasn't hurt. He wanted to tell Clark so, but his tongue was as numb as his brain felt. Clark caught him as he tried to move off, and Lex marveled again at how fast Clark could move. Somehow, he was on the bottom, head leaning against the cushions still warm from Clark's body heat. Clark leaned down and kissed him, so sweetly Lex felt his eyes close.

When he opened them again, Clark was gone. So were all his clothes. Lex blinked.

Too damned fast. And without a word.

Not good signs, either of them.

He dragged himself off the sofa and went in to take a very long, very hot shower. He was completely recovered from the kidnapping and beating, but felt a little shattered by the afternoon's ... he didn't know what to call it ... with Clark. A romp? It was more serious than that. Lovemaking? Ended too abruptly. Buddy fuck? Felt too damned much like love to be dismissed so easily. Besides, he wasn't sure Clark even knew what a buddy fuck was.

Actually, he was pretty certain Clark had no idea what a buddy fuck was.

Picking at dinner, Lex tried to think and ended up brooding. He seriously considered getting drunk, but decided it wouldn't do any good. When he woke up he'd still be brooding, only with a hangover. He thought about working out, but he'd already had a couple different kinds of workouts that day, and he wasn't recovered enough from his recent abuse to push it too far. Drugs were tempting, but he was trying to stay clean, more for the novelty of it than any moral stance.

What he really wanted was more Clark. Naked. Underneath him, on top of him, in bed, against the wall, spread over his desk, he didn't have any particular preference.

More disturbingly, he wanted Clark to **talk** to him. Tell him what was going on in that pretty, too-serious, overly-concerned head of his.

He had a feeling he'd get sex before conversation, not an unusual occurrence in his life, but damned odd in relation to Clark.

Giving up brooding as a waste of time, Lex powered up his computer and got to work. If he couldn't yet control the future, and he couldn't undo the mistakes of the past, the least he could do was make absolutely certain no more of those mistakes would come out of the past to further fuck up his future.

The rest of the week passed with no sign of Clark. Lex took to hanging out at the Beanery until he nearly overdosed on bad coffee, but the one time Clark came in, he turned on his heel and left again as soon as he spotted Lex.

He was blushing. He wasn't smiling.

Pete, at his side, didn't see Lex, and followed him back out the door, protesting. The only thing Clark said was, "Changed my mind. Too hot for coffee."

Lex didn't think he meant the weather.

On Thursday, Martha dropped by with a crate of fruit, filling his standing order. Lex buzzed her in the gate and met her at the side door.

He got to the crate before she could lift it, pulling it out of the truck and setting it down on the step.

"You didn't have to do that, Lex," she chided him gently. He shrugged.

"My nanny raised me to be a gentleman." He smiled at her. She gave him a shadow of a smile in return. "Would you like to come in for a moment?" She made a move toward the truck, indicating the other crates, and Lex added, "Please?"

She must not have expected that, because she nodded and preceded him into the kitchen. He carried the crate in and put it on the table. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"No, thanks. I have other deliveries to make, Lex, I can't stay long."

At least she wasn't running out the door like her son or cutting him dead like her husband. He gave her a hesitant smile. Her own smile both strengthened and grew sad.

"How are you? How's Mr. Kent? I was worried, but thought my presence at your farm would do more harm than good."

She patted his hand, and he let her.

"Jonathan will be all right. Eventually. Thank you for everything you've done. Not just the cattle, but the testing, the remedies, making sure our neighbors' land would be all right."

"It was the least I could do," he told her earnestly. She shook her head.

"No, I've seen the least that can be done by someone in your position. That was much more than the least."

Lex wondered how much she knew about the Luthors. He had a feeling it was more than she let on. He was a little surprised by how welcoming she had been, considering her husband's attitude and her own experiences.

"But no less than I've come to expect from you."

Now that really did surprise him. "What do you mean?" Smooth as silk, waiting for the inevitable rejection. It didn't come.

"You're your own man, Lex. You're not your father, and I know that. So does Clark."

Thank god. A chuckle bubbled up and was ruthlessly suppressed.

"I know you've got things to deal with, and I think you're doing as well as you can. Sometimes those things spill over, and hurt other people, but you also try to mitigate that hurt. That makes you a good man, Lex. A good man, but an occasionally dangerous one."

Lex nodded. Martha gave him a shrewd look, then a genuine smile.

"We all try to protect the people we care about, Lex. You're no different from Jonathan in that." Lex gave her a startled look, and her smile turned to a grin. "Don't let other people's attitudes get in the way of what you've started here, Lex. Fresh beginnings don't come along very often. Make the most of the one you've got."

With that, she rose, and he rose with her. "I'll do my best." As she was opening the truck door, he said, "Mrs. Kent?"

She paused and looked over at him.

"Thanks for the fruit. Please tell Clark I missed him today."

She nodded. "I'll let him know."

"Was it your idea to make the delivery today or his?" He managed to keep his voice light when he asked, not giving away how important the question was.

"Mine," she answered. There was no way he could contain the grin he gave her. She shook her head and laughed. "I'll tell him you said hi." Then she was in the truck, rumbling down the drive.

Lex was still grinning as he walked back into the kitchen. He'd give a small fortune to see Clark's face when Martha gave him Lex's greeting. He bet the blush would be spectacular. Then he choked on a bite of peach.

He hoped to god Clark didn't decide to share why he was blushing. Lex wanted to do it again, and it would be difficult if Jonathan stormed the castle and murdered him.

Friday night was the grand opening of the Talon. Lex got there early. Mingled a tiny bit then gave it over to Lana and found a corner, hidden from but with a clear view of the entrance. Eventually Clark came in. Looked around.

Didn't see Lex, but did see Lana. Lex watched as he gave her a present, some sort of framed picture from the look of it, then watched Clark watching Lana as she sped away to deal with a minor crisis. Clark walked further into the room.

Lex walked stealthily up behind him and blocked his retreat. "I get this feeling you're avoiding me, Clark."

The hint of a blush, then serious green eyes staring into him.

"I just realized there's a lot I don't know about you."

You know everything you need to know. How I taste. How you feel. Lex took a deep breath and kept it clean. "You think my dark past is going to rub off on you." He tried to explain, something no one had ever allowed and that he'd not tried to do since he was a child. "I was trying to protect Amanda. My father wouldn't have raised a finger to help her, but I knew he'd do everything to save his only son."

"So you took the fall and everything was covered up. Is that really what happened? Is that the truth?"

How to tell him that truth was relative? The only thing that mattered was the outcome. Lex settled for the only truth he could give. "The truth is that I'd do anything to protect my friends."

"And I'm your friend." He sounded unsure.

Lex nodded, barely restraining himself from kissing him. He stared into Clark's eyes until the hint of a blush began to spread, then allowed himself a tiny smile. A tiny, hungry smile. Clark swallowed.

"Anything?" he asked huskily. He licked his lips.

Lex looked at his mouth, then back up to his eyes. Concern fought with hunger. It was a beginning. He nodded again.

"Anything."

 _end_

 


End file.
